The Little Library

by Kim Fielding

  “Sounds like good advice.” It was consistent with Elliott’s own experiences, in fact.

  “Probably. Of course, that author doesn’t know my parents.”

  Elliott squeezed Simon’s leg. “But your parents seem like fundamentally good people. And they love you.”

  “Yeah,” Simon responded with a sigh.

  They reached Jamestown, another former gold rush town that now boasted a few thousand residents and a small main street with historic buildings. But Simon bypassed downtown—apparently antiquing was not on the agenda—and instead turned onto a side street a few blocks away. Elliott laughed when he became aware of their destination. “Railtown?”

  Simon pulled the truck into a parking spot in front of the park. “We had fun with the trains in Sacramento, so I thought we could visit these too. It’s okay?”

  “Sure.”

  Ishtar also liked the idea. They took turns holding her leash, and she tugged them around the park, sniffing at everything. She was especially taken with some of the greasier chunks of old metal that had once been train parts. Elliott and Simon let her explore freely. They had the place almost to themselves, and the couple of volunteers on site just gave them friendly waves.

  “Too bad it’s not a weekend,” Simon said. “Then we could do a train ride. They even allow dogs—I checked. I wonder if Ish has ever ridden behind a steam locomotive before.”

  “Seems doubtful.”

  A while later, they stopped to read a sign about the movies and TV shows that had been filmed at this location. “High Noon,” Elliott said. “I could go for that. Want to watch it when we get back? Gary Cooper and Grace Kelly.”

  “The lawman resigns and runs off with his true love. Sure—I’m up for it.”

  Elliott hadn’t thought of it that way.

  They sat on a bench near the roundhouse, where Ishtar nosed at anthills before lying down at their feet. She perked her ears whenever a crow called from a tree nearby. Elliott cleared his throat. “You were mad at me. Before Burgess pulled this shit, I mean.”

  “I don’t know if ‘mad’ is the right word for it. Frustrated?”

  “No, you were angry at me, and that was justifiable. I’d made things fall out of balance between us.”

  Shaking his head, Simon stroked Ishtar’s flank with his shoe. “It wasn’t really your fault. It was just life. We make choices and sometimes shit happens. I needed some space to remind myself of that, you know?”

  “What would you have done if I hadn’t texted you yesterday? Would you have stayed away?”

  “No.” Simon’s deep chuckle warmed Elliott. “I’d already almost come over about a thousand times.”

  “But nothing’s changed, has it? We’re still imbalanced.”

  “I guess so. But when my stupid knee fucks with my balance, I keep on walking. I might be slower, but I get where I intended to go.”

  Elliott joined him in petting Ishtar. Keep on walking. Sounded simple enough. The real question was where he wanted to end up. Maybe instead of limping along to nowhere, he ought to change the destination.

  They spent a couple of hours at Railtown, wandering slowly and chatting aimlessly, until Elliott noticed that Simon’s limp was getting more pronounced. “Want me to fetch your cane?” he asked, hoping Simon had thought to bring it.

  “How about if we take off and find something to eat instead?”

  They drove a few miles farther uphill into Sonora and parked downtown. Since Ishtar was with them, they couldn’t eat inside a restaurant, so Elliott and Ishtar sat on a bench outside a burger place while Simon went in to order. Fifteen minutes later, they had a bag full of food. After rejecting the idea of eating in a little city park, they returned to the truck and ate there. The meal was messy and delicious, and Ishtar got more than her share.

  After they collected all the napkins and wrappers and shoved them in the bag, Simon hopped out of the truck to throw the bag away in a nearby trash can. He checked his phone and texted someone, it looked like.

  “Ready to head back to the valley?” he asked once he was inside.

  “Yeah. Thanks, Si. This outing was a good thing.”

  Simon leaned in close and they kissed, onion breath and all.

  As they drove downhill, Elliott felt oddly at peace. What if his life could be like this forever? Spending some time with online classes, a little more time with his books and research, and then hanging out with Simon. Day trips to the mountains or the coast, maybe a long weekend now and then somewhere farther away. That wasn’t what he’d dreamed of when he’d been laboring over his dissertation, and it certainly wasn’t the existence John used to promise him.

  Perhaps this dream was better. It certainly offered a new destination.

  They held hands most of the way home, like high school sweethearts or newlyweds, and Simon tuned the radio to NPR because he knew Elliott preferred it to music. Far to the west, on the other side of the valley, the sun was breaking through the clouds, sending beams of light like messages from the heavens. Elliott hadn’t made any decisions, yet he felt as drowsy and content as Ishtar, who was fast asleep on the back seat.

  An hour or so of light remained as they reached their neighborhood. Elliott hadn’t run that day; maybe he’d get in a quick jog before night fell.

  Then Simon turned the corner onto Elliott’s street, and Elliott’s breath caught in his chest.

  A crowd covered his front lawn. Anna and Ladd stood there in matching blue jackets, and Kyle was next to them. Miri was there too, and her brother Ashur, along with a gaggle of younger Odishos Elliott recognized from Thanksgiving but couldn’t name. Melanie the Girl Scout was there, and her parents, and some of the neighbors who’d frequented the library. Probably close to thirty people in all, and every one of them was smiling and waving.

  Right in the middle of the crowd was a new miniature neighborhood library. Only it wasn’t actually all that miniature. This one was mounted where the old one had been, but on a much broader base, which was good because the book enclosure was nearly three feet tall and similarly wide. It held three shelves, all of which were stuffed with books. The enclosure looked like a tiny version of Elliott’s house, except it was painted in rainbow colors.

  When Simon stopped the truck in the driveway, Ishtar woke up and began wagging her tail wildly, almost frantic to greet everyone. Elliott, stunned, just sat. “Simon?” he whispered.

  “Surprise.”

  “But . . . how?”

  “It was easy. Just a bit of research, a few texts. Man, these people were so on top of it, you’re lucky they didn’t build a book skyscraper while we were gone.”

  “I don’t . . .” Elliott swallowed hard. “Why?”

  “With a little help, we can rebuild after any disaster. It’s called community. These are your people, El. Well, with a few recent recruits from Miri.”

  “My people?”

  Simon squeezed his shoulder. “Yours.”

  Everyone started clapping as soon as Elliott got out of the truck. He would have felt horribly awkward, except Ishtar started tearing around, demanding pets from everyone and making them laugh. People dragged him over to admire the library, and then everyone wanted to point out which books they’d contributed and explain why. People were happy. Complete strangers talked to each other about books and dogs and how they knew Elliott, and somehow cookies and pizza materialized and the whole crowd was eating. Simon kept close to Elliott’s side, holding his hand and beaming.

  Community. It was a hell of a lot more beautiful and valuable than tenure and academic acclaim.

  “Your people,” Simon whispered in Elliott’s ear.

  Elliott whispered back. “Yours too.”

  Then he pulled his phone from his pocket and punched in a number. He was shunted to voice mail, which he’d expected.

  “Hi, Ginny? This is Elliott Thompson. I want to say how much I appreciate that you were willing to give me a chance. Something’s come up, however. Actually, I’ve fallen in
love. So best of luck with your search—but I’ll be staying in Modesto.”

  He ended the call, tucked the phone away, and fell into Simon’s fierce embrace.

  Epilogue

  “Oh God.” Elliott looked around in horror.

  Standing behind him, Simon thumped Elliott’s shoulder. “I warned you it would be bad. Wildlife, remember?”

  “The spiders have built entire civilizations.”

  “Let’s hope their weaponry hasn’t evolved yet.”

  Cleaning out the downstairs of Simon’s house had been easy. Several of his older relatives had happily laid claim to the furniture, and it took only a couple of truckloads to transport Simon’s clothing and other personal effects to Elliott’s closet and drawers—which were now Simon’s closet and drawers as well.

  But the second floor of Simon’s house was another story. One bedroom was a museum to his childhood, with everything from kindergarten artwork to high school yearbooks tucked away in overstuffed, dust-festooned cardboard boxes. His long-lost Legos were undoubtedly in there somewhere. The other bedroom held hideous furniture his parents had saved for the apocalypse, along with boxes containing holiday decorations, table linens, and enough dishware to serve half the county. Spiderwebs stretched everywhere, and Elliott itched just looking at them.

  “Can’t we walk away and leave all this?” he whined.

  “Nope. Can’t sell the place until we clear this out.”

  That statement referred to the first major thaw in Simon’s relationship with his extended family, which had occurred the previous month at Aunt Soso’s annual Christmas party. Well, the first thaw had actually occurred when Aunt Soso insisted that Simon attend the gathering—with Elliott—and when Simon’s parents had shown up knowing he’d be there. They’d greeted Simon stiffly and nodded at Elliott. Then, at the point in the evening when almost everyone had imbibed a few glasses of holiday cheer and as Elliott and Simon were standing quietly in a corner of the kitchen, Sargon and Nahrina had approached them.

  “Miri says you have moved to his house.” Nahrina waved a hand toward Elliott.

  “Yeah. So if you want your keys back or—”

  “We want to sell the house you lived in. No use keeping it now.”

  Simon’s shoulders slumped a little. “Okay. Most of my stuff’s out already. I’ll get the rest out.”

  “After the holidays. Nobody buys a house now.”

  “Okay.”

  Sargon pointed at Simon. “You take care of selling it. We have no time for that.” His stern expression eased a little. “You keep half the money.”

  “It will help settle your new life,” Nahrina added. With that somewhat enigmatic comment, she sailed away, taking Sargon with her.

  Since then, Simon had spoken with them briefly a few times, mostly about the contents of the house. Those bits of communication weren’t huge progress, but they were something, and Elliott could tell they’d lifted a great deal of Simon’s emotional burden.

  Now Elliott looked around the room in dread. “How about if we tackle this later? I bet Ishtar wants to go for a run.” They’d left her at home, knowing she wouldn’t be much help during a cleaning project.

  “You guys ran already today. She’s fast asleep.” Simon gave Elliott’s ass a friendly pat. “Shirker.”

  “You and I could get another kind of exercise instead.” Elliott waggled his eyebrows.

  “Are you trying to seduce me out of this job?”

  “Yes.”

  “Hmm.” Simon dropped the broom and pulled Elliott close, then nibbled on his earlobe. “That may be negotiable.”

  Elliott entered into negotiations by sliding his hand down the back of Simon’s jeans. Before Simon could make a counteroffer, his phone buzzed.

  “Damn it,” he said.

  Elliott disengaged his hand as Simon pulled out the phone.

  “Miri,” he said with a frown. “She needs to talk to us.”

  A half hour later, after Simon and Elliott had returned home, Miri’s little Honda pulled into the driveway. Elliott greeted her at the front door while Simon held Ishtar’s collar in an attempt to moderate her enthusiasm. Simon did a double take when he saw who was with Miri.

  “Mom?” he said, his voice slightly choked.

  She cast him a stern look over Elliott’s shoulder. “We need to talk.”

  “Is Dad okay?”

  Nahrina blew an annoyed puff of air. “He is home, watching television. Football playoffs.” Judging from her expression, she wasn’t a fan.

  She’d never been to their house, so once Ishtar calmed down, Elliott gave her a quick tour while Simon made coffee. She seemed interested in Elliott’s gardening books, so he lent her some.

  “This library you have, Miri told me about it. Now I see them in your neighbors’ yards too.”

  That made him smile. While his version remained the largest, miniature neighborhood libraries had popped up in several front yards over the past weeks, each uniquely designed. He’d contributed books to several of them. Burgess, of course, hadn’t built one, but a For Sale sign had appeared in front of his house, and Elliott had high hopes for a good temperament in his future neighbor. “Yeah. I guess it’s kind of a thing now.”

  “Do you have books in Assyrian?”

  “I don’t think so.”

  She nodded as if that settled something. “I will give you some.”

  “I’d love that.”

  A few minutes later, they all settled into the living room. Nahrina held her coffee as regally as a queen, but Miri fidgeted and petted Ishtar. Small talk fizzled. Simon looked as if he was running out of patience—a feeling Elliott was beginning to share.

  And then at last, Miri scrunched up her face. “So there’s this baby thing.” She patted her belly, which had begun to grow.

  “Baby thing?” Simon asked.

  “My baby. Only, jeez, I’m not even twenty, and I really want to keep going to school, and I don’t think I’m mature enough to make a good mom. Someday, sure, when I’m, like . . . old. But not now.”

  Elliott and Simon exchanged a puzzled glance before Simon replied, “We’ll support you, whatever you decide, Miri. You know that.”

  “Good. ’Cause what I’ve decided is to ask you to be her daddies.”

  Simon’s mouth fell open. It would have been almost comical if Elliott could have managed to breathe.

  “What?” Simon squeaked.

  “Her daddies. If you want to. I’ve always known you’d be the world’s most awesome dad, Simon, like blue-ribbon award-winning. And Elliott, God, you’re spectacular. I can picture you reading to her, teaching her.” She sniffled slightly. “You’d both be perfect.”

  “Her?” was all Simon could say—which was still more than Elliott could manage.

  Miri shrugged. “Or him. Whatever.”

  “But this is your baby.”

  “You guys would make way better parents than me. I’d be really happy just to be the way-cool aunt, you know?” She chewed her lip. “Not that I want to force you into anything. I know this is, like, huge. But I feel like it’s the right way to go.” She held both hands clasped against her chest.

  Although Simon turned toward him, Elliott remained too stunned to speak. Stunned and . . . excited. His heart was racing. He felt as if he was on the verge of receiving the most wonderful gift ever. And Simon? His eyes glowed.

  “Mom?” Simon said very quietly, looking at her.

  She set her mug down. “You will be a good father. You will both be. It is always best for a child to have two parents. One should be a mother.” She shrugged. “This one can have a grandmother instead.”

  “I . . . I . . .” Simon grabbed Elliott’s hand, held it tightly, and finally managed to speak. “El and I have to talk about this. It’s a big decision. Huge. It’s—”

  Elliott stopped him with a gentle stroke of Simon’s beard. “Do you want this?”

  His lower lip slightly wobbly, Simon nodded.

 
Elliott had never felt so warm and big and important. Maybe his career wasn’t as prestigious as he’d once imagined, but that faded away in favor of what was truly consequential. Love. Family. The very best of new beginnings. “I do too,” Elliott said.

  There were some tears after that and a lot of hugging, and Nahrina pinched Simon’s cheek and then Elliott’s, and Ishtar knocked over a stack of books with her tail. Then Miri and Nahrina pulled out phones and began texting the entire clan.

  Elliott and Simon held each other tightly.

  “Baby books,” Simon said. “We’ll need to stock up on baby books.”

  Elliott kissed Simon’s cheek. “Let’s start with Goodnight Moon.”

  Also by Kim Fielding

  Ante Up

  Running Blind

  Staged

  Love Is Heartless

  Love Can’t Conquer

  Rattlesnake

  Astounding!

  Motel. Pool.

  Pilgrimage

  The Tin Box

  Brute

  Venetian Masks

  Good Bones

  Buried Bones

  Bone Dry

  Stasis

  Flux

  Equipoise

  Corruption

  Clay White

  Grown-Up

  The Pillar

  Housekeeping

  Night Shift

  Speechless

  Guarded

  Treasure

  The Downs

  About Kim Fielding

  Kim Fielding is the best-selling author of numerous m/m romance novels, novellas, and short stories. Like Kim herself, her work is eclectic, spanning genres such as contemporary, fantasy, paranormal, and historical. Her stories are set in alternate worlds, in fifteenth-century Bosnia, in modern-day Oregon. Her heroes are hipster architect werewolves, housekeepers, maimed giants, and conflicted graduate students. They’re usually flawed, they often encounter terrible obstacles, but they always find love.

  After having migrated back and forth across the western two-thirds of the United States, Kim calls the boring part of California home. She lives there with her husband, her daughters, and her day job as a university professor, but escapes as often as possible via car, train, plane, or boat. This may explain why her characters often seem to be in transit as well. She dreams of traveling and writing full-time.